Irresistible Coercion
by Galiko
Summary: Kotetsu's perspective, frot.


**Irresistible coercion**

**[ 500 Themes: 180]**

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><p>Kotetsu isn't sure what it is about Barnaby, but whatever it is, he can't keep his hands off of him all the same.<p>

And he isn't complaining about it, either.

Barnaby, sprawled out over his bed, is mussed and damp after a shower – half asleep after collapsing upon the rickety mattress (after complaining about exactly how rickety it is, even, the brat). Watching him, Kotetsu can't help but compare him to some painting – like hell he can put a name to the style or artist, but it's something elegant and classic, what with the fine boning of his face and those blond curls and perfect lips. The lay of his eyelashes against his skin is something to behold, too, and Kotetsu likes leaning in close to see the pale fall of them, dusting over equally fair skin.

He's _pretty._ That's probably the main reason Kotetsu likes touching him so much.

"Hey," he murmurs as he slips into bed next to the blond, curls his fingers into the towel loosely hung about his hips, and Barnaby stirs again, huffing out a soft breath in protest for all of a moment before Kotetsu's lips press warmly to his neck and then it's a_sigh_ rather than a protest, warm and breathy and pleased. "You're pretty, you know that?"

The look he receives in response is less than impressed, if not bleary from sleep and the lack of glasses to focus his vision further. "I'm not pretty. You don't call men 'pretty.'"

"Well, I call _you_ pretty." Kotetsu grins as a faint flush is his reward and he sidles closer still, the towel falling away entirely. It never takes much to rile Barnaby up, and so Kotetsu trails a thumb up the underside of his half-hard erection, light and teasing.

"I was trying to sleep," is the final attempt to be cranky as Barnaby hisses and twists, a reflexive reach for Kotetsu's clothing following. He's not wearing much. His shirt has been long discarded at the end of a long day, his belt as well – it's just loose sweatpants and Barnaby tugs them down with far more grace than someone that had just been trying to _sleep._

Breath catching, Kotetsu growls in the back of his throat as Barnaby lifts a hand of his own, licking a stripe down it himself. He can't do anything but _watch_ as that hand wraps around his cock – can't do anything but groan and jerk forward into the touch, feeling himself swell within Barnaby's grasp as his hips rotate and shift with each stroke and drag of his lover's palm.

"_Fuck_ – " he breathes, and Barnaby's eyes lid as their bodies shift closer – that pretty, _pretty_ flush on Barnaby's cheeks darkening as their hips collide and their erections rub and brush with the motion. Kotetsu can't help himself now, not with Barnaby's own breath catching, his teeth biting into his lower lip to keep back the noises he wants to make, and he fumbles, one-handedly beneath a pillow, a bottle of lube his prize.

It's spilled messily between them, slicking over his hand and over both of them before he grasps both of their cocks within his hold and strokes, _squeezes._ The sound Barnaby makes is positively sinful – some kind of a keening, drawn out mewl as he squirms and wriggles closer, arching his back to better thrust himself into Kotetsu's grasp. "Good?" is the older man's low, almost _snide_ tease, and Barnaby can only manage a strangled affirmative as his own hands slip to Kotetsu's hair, dragging the other man's mouth to an openly bared throat as every slide of that calloused palm up and down his flesh openly seems to drive him all the more _insane._

Barnaby comes first – all strung tight nerves, toes curling and fingers so tight within Kotetsu's hair that it almost _hurts_, but fuck if Kotetsu cares, fuck if he cares about _anything_ but Barnaby spasming in his grasp, jerking against him, rolling his hips in little circles and gasping with his head thrown back and curls _everywhere. _Kotetsu, for all of his attempts to hold on, to _enjoy_ this further – god, he just can't, not when Barnaby is a breathless, panting mess, sagging into the bed after the fact, his own come furthering how slick and hot things are between them, how he still twitches within Kotetsu's grasp as every little touch and movement only makes it _better._

So Kotetsu gives in as well, voice stifled into the side of his lover's neck, tasting Barnaby's thundering pulse and the salty slickness of his skin. _Fuck_, yes. His legs are shaking he comes so hard, and they're both a mess from all of it – Barnaby's going to insist on another shower, but Kotetsu isn't done, not yet, absolutely not yet.

His hand pulls away and his unsullied one grasps Barnaby's chin, drags his face back to where Kotetsu can see it so perfectly before he presses his fingers to the blond's lips. There's some hesitation, but Barnaby relents – lips parting, a low, muffled groan escaping as he sucks and licks each finger clean in succession, his body seeming intent on shivering and twitching with every lap and suckle to follow.

Kotetsu is right there with him.

"You're something else, you know that?" he breathes, and Barnaby merely responds with a pointed lick from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger, making Kotetsu shudder all the more.

A minx. An absolute minx.

It is going to be a long night.


End file.
